The Ranger
by Mr. Flinstone
Summary: When a group  of mysterious men find a youth after a attack on his ship, they decide to take him on a journey beyond the power of Men. But when they come across a ancient power, it becomes a fight for survival against the One Ring
1. The Burning Ship

AN: Hullo. My name is My. Flinstone and this is my story "The Ranger". I know, a bit cliche of a title. But please give it a chance, I think you might like it. Chapters will most likely be uploaded three at a time. That way you'll have plenty of stuff to read (assuming you like the book). I tried my best to stick to Tolkien's style of writing the best I could to try and make the story as similar to _Lord of the Rings_ as possible. And if you do like it, please leave a review or two on your way out. It's no use for me to put time and effort into something people don't even like. Constructive criticism is appreciated. That really sums up all I want to say so all that's left is I hope you like the story.

_Yours Sincerley_

_~ Mr Flinstone_

* * *

Chapter 1: A Burning Ship

The dark, icy water slowly crept from it's roots onto a youthful face covered in dirt and blood. Pieces of wood and clothes floated aimlessly around the ocean behind him, along with other items. Further out the scarce image of what used to be a magnificent vessel now had been torn apart. The young man's eyes twitched as he groaned just barely above a whispers. He would lay where he was for a few more minutes, working up the strength to lift himself up from his embedded place. He turned himself upon his back and looked about his surroundings with curiosity. It was a rocky coastline, with walls of stone that stretched around the dark water at small length that created a gulf. The brisk air mad the wet soil of this place hard yet slippery at the same time, he realized as he ran his hand through it. He went on his knees and crawled over to a minuscule field of grass not far away and rested his head there.

He was greatly dehydrated and very hungry. Dripping wet from head to toe, he knew that he didn't have long to find warmth. Instantly he became painfully aware of a shooting pain in his left leg. He leaned forward and saw that it had been cut very deeply and would need attention quick. But that was the least of his troubles. He was cold, so very cold. He needed warmth badly, but he had no way of finding it. It was becoming difficult to breathe now, and he knew it wouldn't be long that he would even be able to. Sound became a fuzzy, humming sound. Sight became blurred. The only thing that kept him awake was the sound of a pounding of the earth. It was a quick, steady beat. And there was more than once of them.

In the distance he could see a hazy image of two figures, running towards him, at great speed. He fought to keep himself from closing his deep brown eyes, long enough for the figures to reach him. One of them knelled down and put a cloak around the young man.

Although it wasn't much, the cloak did help him. Although he couldn't make out the words, he could hear them muttering somehing to him. He listened and tried to make them out, but could not. Breathing was now harder than ever. He choked as he gripped the wet grass underneath his fingertips. The men were now panicking, the young man could tell, barely, for the color of the world was fading from his vision.

The men were shouting something to him, but he could still not make it out. With his strength fading he used the last of it to choke out one word, knowing that it might be his last.

"Bran" he gulped.

After that the world went dark.


	2. Amdir

Chapter 2: Amdir

Bran slowly opened his eyes to the warm feel of a fireplace. He yawned and looked around at where he was. It was a small room, with a mediocre fireplace. A large, golden edged carpet covered most of the wooden floor, and a few chairs were scattered across the room. And in one of the a man lay, eyes closed. He was lean, light-brown skinned, with a thin, high-cheek boned face. His fleecy, brown hair extended to his eyebrows, similar to his own jet-black hair. He was dressed in a dark, red tunic under a black leather vest, with hunting boot's and dark pants.

This must have been the man whom he had last saw before he blacked out. Bran looked down at himself and noticed that a dark stubble had grown, when he had last remembered it had been as smooth as a polished diamond. He was wearing a whit tunic along with cozy pants, meant for comfort. He lifted the covers off of himself and crept away from the warm bed. His feet cricked and cracked on the thin wooden floor as he made his way over to the doorway. Then, quick as lightning, the seemingly sleeping man leaped from his seat and held a long dagger up to Bran's neck.

The man was nervous as if he had been threatened, and his eyes were wild. Bran dare not move away from the blade, in fear of the dagger piercing it's target. Apart from the hot sweat beating down on his neck, he could feel the coldness of the blade, and it sent shivers through his body. The man breathed heavily and seemed liable to do anything at this point. For a brief second the two men stared each other down, sizing the other up.

Suddenly the man seemed to calm down, as he removed the dagger from Bran's neck. He now allowed himself to relax a bit as the man's breathing became slower and his eyes less piercing.

"Who are you?" Bran asked, still a bit shaken from what had just happened. The man sheathed his dagger and rubbed his thin beard softly.

"Tis' that I should be asking you that, Bran." he replied. There was a moment of silence, and as if reading Bran's mind, he said"When we found you, all you told us was a name. Bran. We figured it was yours." He then walked slowly over to the side of the room.

Bran looked at this man closely. After going over it in his mind a few times he decided that this must have been the man who found him. One thing he had noticed about the man who had cloaked him was that he had eyes as green as grass at summertime.

"Yes, it is." he said slowly, "But before I tell you my story...I would like to know yours."

"I don't find a good reason to be tellin' you my tale."The man sighed at this and once again rubbed his chin. "My tale is to long to tell you in detail." he paused. "So I shall have to shorten it."

Bran breathed thoroughly and sat down on the bed, leaning to the man to hear his every word. Then man sighed heavily, wiped sweat from his brow, and said, "My name is, Amdir. I hail from the South, and I am a Ranger. A damn good one at that, too."

A Ranger, he thought excitedly. Men who lived off the land. Skilled with a sword, and deadly with a bow. In his home town they used to pass through from time to time. They usually kept to themselves, drinkin' their ale or smokin' their pipe. They were a mysterious bunch, no doubt of that. But the people in his town, himself included, admired them. The more approachable ones would tell tales of epic proportion. It would tell of their adventures throughout the Misty Mountains, or how they encountered a group of Orcs. Each as exciting and riveting as the next. In truth, he had always wished he could be one of them. He was good with a bow, and had learned well the ways of the blade. He always considered leaving with them on their journeys.

"I ran way from home 7 years ago, when I was 20, and joined archers platoon in the army. One day we were out scouting the a forested area far out of Minas Tirith. We were ambushed. I made it out alive but couldn't find my way back to the city. I ended up in a small town in the southern Rohan. That's where I met Baragon, the other man who found you. I learned how to live off the land. Learned how to handle a sword. And here I am."

"3 days ago, Baragon and I, found a burning ship out on the Sea. We searched the coast for supplies, weapons, survivors, anything. You were the only thing we found except for some wet wood, and a dull knife."

Although he was listening intently, Bran stared away from Amdir. The ship he traveled on held friends, good friends. People he had grown up with. And now there was a high possibility that they were dead. He choked back tears, has his brown eyes made contact with with Amdir's own green pair.

"So, now that I've told you a 'bit about myself." he said, "I believe it's your turn to do so." he paused. "What were you doin' on the ship?" Amdir asked curiously.

Bran closed his eyes to compose himself and then looked upon Amdir again."My name is Bran, as you know. I was born in the North, Dale-land to be exact. I am 20 years of age, and when I was 17, I enlisted in a militia company. My father is a weapon smith, so I had many years under my belt sparring with him. I am very skilled with a sword, and have something of good aim with a bow. I spent about 2 1/2 years fighting at Angmar against Orcs and terrible things of that sort. Finally our numbers had dwindled to so little, that we were forced to head retreat from the front-lines, and let the reinforcements take over. Our path back by land was blocked, so we had to take a vessel back. But we were ambushed. Raiders attacked the ship and they killed many before we fought them off. During the battle the boat crashed into a large rock, and it began to sink. And so here I am."

Amdir stood silent for a moment, analyzing the story. Bran did the same as he stared at the weary Ranger. Amdir then walked slowly across the room into the small exit. Just as he was about to disapear from sight he held up a hand and motioned for Bran to follow him. He immediately followed him outside. The bleak sky barely gave any light to the tress and grass of the area. As Amdir led to a small work station, he couldn't help but notice the thick forest surrounding the area. The house itself stood resolute in a small open field, against a hill. Trees were plentiful all around the house.

Amdir walked to a small workbench where multiple swords in their sheaths lay. He picked one up and tossed it to Bran, who caught it with ease. bran unsheathed the sword to find a rusty, but light great sword. It had seen battle, that much was clear. Probably used for practice, for hours on end. He twirled it in his hand to get a feel for it, foreboding what would happen. Amdir did the same, and looked at Bran with his piercing green eyes.

"I think we should test your skills with a blade." he said, defiantly. Before Bran could respond, Amdir lunged at him with amazing quickness and swung. Bran, reacting on instinct, dropped the sheath and sidestepped the strike. Amdir balanced himself instantly and swung his blade again. The two men's blades met each other, as both struggled for an edge of leverage. Bran gave in and backed off and composed himself again. Amdir did not hesitate, though. He struck hard and swiftly, each strike meeting Bran's own blade, but driving him back nonetheless. As their blades were clashed above both of them, Amdir kicked Bran in the gut so that he was pushed onto a nearby tree.

Amdir swung for Bran's head, with a crazy look in his eye, but Bran sqautted down just in time. As he rolled away from his foe, he realized that Amdir was trying to kill him. He was actually trying to kill him! He blocked of another set of Amdir's strikes from his knees then, lifted an offbalance Amdir off of his legs, and onto his back. His sword flung far away from him, Amdir just stayed there, with Bran's sword over his sweating neck.

The two stared at the other for a few moments, trying to contemplate what the other would do. Suddenly Amdir moved the blade off of his throat in a fluid motion, and laughed heartily. As the man beneath him giggled, Bran looked at him as if he were insane. This is the man who had just been trying to run him through just a moment ago, and now he was laughing at him. He could feel the anger rise through him, as he clenched his hands tighter around the leather handle of the worn out blade. As if sensing the anger, Amdir ceased his laughing and picked himself up from the ground.

"You're better than I would have guessed, Bran of Dale. You even managed to best me. Not an easyy feat my friend." he said with a slight hint of cockiness in his voice, despite the fact that he had just been beaten. Bran just stared at him in disbelief.

"Hold on." he said with defiance. "You were trying to kill me, just a minute ago. And now you're complimenting me!".

The slight grin on Amdir's face disappeared, to be replaced by a grim look. "Do you think that a Brigand would stop before he ran you through. Or maybe a bloodthirsty Orc? In life nobody stops until they get what they want." He paused. "But like I said, it was a test. And you did more then pass. You confirmed my thoughts."

Now Bran lookeed at him with curiosity. "What thoughts, exactly." he said.

Amdir looked back at him and replied,"That you'd be a good edition to our group." with a smile. Before Bran could say anything, Amdir continued,"Follow me inside, I have to talk to you about a propostion."

Within a second Amdir was on his way inside. With thoughtful eyes he followed him in, and when he reached the steps, Amdir stopped, suddenly. He looked slowly from side to side of the house, for a few seconds, then continued inside. As Bran was walking in, he could of swore he heard feet stepping on branches. The sound continued for a little then stopped quickly. He spared a look back into the woods, and saw nothing. He walked inside.

* * *

Amdir poured them both a cup of ale and layed out a loaf of bread on a small table. They both sat down and sipped their drink for a few moments, saying nothing. The cool air coming through an open window chilled the back of his neck, making him shiver slightly. The silence continued as they continued to drink. Finnaly Amdir opened his mouth to speak.

"Do you have any family?" he asked, profoundly.

Bran hesitated for a moment, then answered, "No. My mother died when I was young and my father fell in battle. The only home I know is Bree. And I have no intention of going back to that place."

Amdir listened and sipped his drink once more. Bran could see that he was contemplating a decision, or something of that sort. He seemed deep in thought. So Bran sipped his drink some more. Amdir once again ceased the silence and said, "I'll be upfront with you, my friend and I, Baragorn need to travel south, near the Gap of Rohan. We need to meet a friend, near the Misty Mountains, he has some kind of work for us to do. He didn't mention much about except for this." he paused.

"It is a matter concerning Hobbits."

Hobbits. Ingenious creatures, really. They lived in solitude, rarely venturing out of their beloved Shire. Small people they were, standing barely over two feet tall. But their size did not matter, for they had other uses. They were fine story-tellers, brew-makers, and song writers. In his travels through Buckland, he had stopped by the tavern, and the scene had been wild. There were halflings dancing on tables, and smoking their pipe-weed. Other than that he had not many other dealings with Hobbits.

Amdir paused again, as if what he were about to say was physically pain full for him. "Do you know about the One Ring?"

There was a silence. Amdir sighed then recited the infamous rhyme.

_"Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,_  
_Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,_  
_Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,_  
_One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne_  
_In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie._  
_One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,_  
_One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them_  
_In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie"_

"The One Ring. Crafted by the Bark Lord, Sauron long ago. It is a object of unbelievable power and destruction. But you've been told that it no longer exists...am I correct?", Amdir asked.

Bran slowly nodded his head. He had heard this riddle before, when he was a boy. This was one that he had heard from his Father, whom had descendants of great valor and honor. But he once told him a story of a time long ago; where Men and Elves pulled together against Sauron, the Dark Lord. They fought, and the Dark Lord himself had come out onto the plain of battle, with the One Ring on his finger. Isildur, the King of Gondor, then came out to face him and slew off the finger. Sauron then disappeared and was no more, so it is told. The Ring then passed to Isildur, who held it for a short while, but he was attacked and killed by Orcs. As far as he knows, the Ring is lost, somewhere in the wilderness.

Not knowing exactly what to say, he just said, "Yes."

Amdir gave a slight grin, barely visible, but still there."To my own disbelief as well, it is not. Somewhere deep in the Shire a Hobbit by the name of Frodo Baggins, has possession of the Ring. Now my friend has asked me to come down to Bree with a few men and lend him a hand with whatever he needs. And I was wondering if you would mind joining my small company."

There was a silence. Bran wasn't exactly sure how to respond to that. He had nowhere to go, no family. But he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be a part of an adventure this big. Still pondering the question he remained silent.

"So that's just it, I'll just be part of a traveling party. And it's all that simple?" he asked, breaking the silence. Amdir looked away from him and sipped his drink once more, and ate a part of the loaf of bread. At last he looked down at his feet and said,

"My friend also said this." he paused. He leaned in close so that Bran could smell the ale from his breath."On the road we will take, there will be evil things stalking us. Things that were not meant to ever be created. Ringwraiths, they are called. Demons that serve the Dark Lord. Always searching, high and low, for the Ring. That is what we must fear on this journey. And the more men we have on this journey, the better chance there is of survival."

Bran took this all in, accessing the entire situation. Amdir waited silently, still sipping his drink. They both sat there for an hour or two, though it seemed as if it was ages, staying silent. Wanting to break the silence, but still not knowing his response, Bran remained quiet.

Finnaly, having come up with his answer, Bran said."I will go." with confidence.

Amdir smiled, gladly, and sat up from his chair."Well then, we've no time to waste. We must get you some new clothes, and suitable weaponry. We leave in 5 days." he said semi-happily. With that he was gone.

As he watched Amdir leave, Bran sat back and breathed heavily. He had begun another adventure. But only time could tell if it was an adventure he would want to be on. The cold air blew through the window as he peered out of it, not knowing what he expected to see. It was still bright out, and there were brids flying about blissfully. He sat up and walked towards the window. In a split-second, there was a quick noise, then nothing. Bran looked out the window hurridley, and for a moment, he could have swore he saw a glint of a black robe behind a tree. He leaned bac into the cabin and once again sat down on the chair, telling himself it was just his imagination.


	3. The Hills of Evendim

Chapter 3: The Hills of Evendim

Bran stood, waiting outside the cabin, with his company; save for Amdir who was making final preparations in the small house. There were four waiting outside, including himself. One was Baragon, who was clad in a light mail, with a dark shirt covering, topped with a leather vest. He wore a long Elvish cloak that extended past his knees, barely swaying above the ground. Hunting boots and leather gloves completed his attire. He had close-cropped hair, and a stubbly beard, that covered a tanned face from the South.

He had come the day after he had awakened, along with the other two. They had all sat down and told stories, and their own backgrounds. But Baragon had hardly said anything about his past. He wasn't a quiet man by any means. But he seemed troubled by his past. Bran hadn't wished to dig into the man's personal life, so he didn't question. The other two were good men as well. Thor was a tall, sturdily built man. Bearing a shield and long blade, he was the power force of the group. He hailed from the North, same as Bran, and he was very skilled with a sword. In training sessions he had been a very worthy opponent, with a blade.

Harol, from Gondor, was a man of Bran's height. He was lean and could move very swiftly on his feet. Although he was skilled with a blade, his real strength was with a bow. He could hit an acorn on a branch from 100 yards away. He was probably the friendliest of the lot of them all, always having a smile on his face. Harol dressed in lighter armor while Thor wore chainmail that should have weighed him down, but he moved with surprising speed.

Bran himself was clad in a silver mail jacket over a grey tunic, and under a leather vest. Over it all was a long, green robe topped with a cowl that nearly concealed his eyes. These, along with fine leather gloves and bracers, were given to him by his companions. The only things he wore that he owned were his boots and pants. A sheathed sword sat, slung at his waist, the silver handle gleaming in the sunlight. On his back hung a quiver full of arrows, as well as a bow. It's pine frame was light, and he shot with great aim with it. Around his quiver, was a brown knapsack full of supplies. In it was rope, an extra tunic, some healing herbs he had found while searching the wilderness, and blankets for the cold winter nights, sure to come.

Knives were located along his waist and inside his left boot. They all sat on the ground, talking about the journey to come. The early winter breeze blew through the grass, as the dim sun shone down on the men. Birds were flying about, whisking left and right, of all colors. Bran watched as a flock a blue birds flew above the group, and just for one moment he left his mind drift away.

Suddenly, his eyes turned to the door of the cabin, where a tall man walked outside. He stood clad in armor similar to the others, but he shone with a certain confidence that none of the others had. His weapons consisted of two blades, about 3/4 the length of a regular sword, that lay in sheaths on either side of him. A crossbow was slung on his back, as walked down the wooden steps and over to the group of men, signaling them to come near. His They all crowded around a small table in the center of the small opening in front of the house. Amdir waited for them all to come around the began to speak.

"Alright, here's the plan." he stated. "We move south from here through the Hills of Evendim. As far west as we can, too. Best to be avoiding Angmar nowadays." They all grunted in agreement. Angmar a place of evil. Orcs inhabited it, demons ruled it. And there were things that should not be in the world of Men. He snapped back from his thoughts and payed attention to Amdir. "Then we have to meet a friend of mine at Fornost, who will give us some shelter for a few days. After that, we head down to Bree to find my other friend, who will meet us at the Prancing Pony. His name is Strider, that is what we call him. He is a Ranger, with more prowess than me even. Yes that is where we shall meet him, and we should be going soon, so does everyone have their supplies?"

Everyone nodded and shifted their knapsacks into a tighter position. Amdir, with a satisfied look, he walked over to the edge of the wood and turned to his companions and said, "Everyone stay close and don't stray." He paused. "Remember, strength is in numbers."

* * *

They walked steadily through the wood. The trees were dark and grey, matching the sky perfectly. At a few moments it seemed that it would begin to pour down, and they would have to stop o their journey so soon. But they were able to keep moving. Their main way of direction was to follow a small creek that spread through down towards a small hill, overlooking the Hills of Evendim. They followed the creek swiftly, only stopping once, for a breather. The small hill that they were heading towards would be their shelter for the night, giving them a fair view of the surrounding area.

The company was making good time, with Amdir leading the way. Baragon was next after him, then Bran himself, next Harol, then Thor. After what seemed of hours of walking they came across the hill that they were looking for. Almost excitedly, Amdir ran up the hill, with the others in pursuit. It had a group of trees that rounded about, creating a sort of barrier, as well as a great rock next to the he reached the top of the hill they all stopped and stared at the wonder that was before them. It was two rows of mountains, that lined up just behind the previous hill. They were all grey with a white tip, that seemed to extend to the sky. A thin river ran in between each set of mountains, creating a narrow path between them.

"These are the Hills of Evendim" Amdir boldly stated. "And they go on for miles after this."

They all stared at the mountains, their expressions blank. Silence filled the air, until Thor said, "I have journeyed through these hills once before. Though the view was majestic, some dark things that may come through this pass, with Angmar being so close."

"I have been here before, as well." Baragon stated. "And Thor is right, it would be wise the find a path through the mountains, instead of following the river."

Amdir contemplated this for a moment while the others let their knapsacks fall to the ground. He rubbed his beard and finally said, "Yes, that will be best. We will set up camp here for a few days, and tomorrow we will go looking for passage through the mountains themselves."

That was all the others needed to hear to begin to relax. Bran was beginning to set up his sleeping are when Harol asked, "What about patrol? Which one of us will be the first to stay up?"

Amdir shook his head and replied, "I don't think it will be necessary, we are not yet in too deep to be worrying about foes." They all went back to setting up a sleeping area, but Bran still worried about what he had seen some days ago. Whatever it had been it was not friendly, or it would not have hidden itself from him. Although he wasn't sure what it was, and he wasn't even sure he had saw it, he knew that he had to be careful of it.

They all lay around with their own style of rest. Bran had set up his knapsack as a pillow with his extra blankets as a cushion. He removed his bow and quiver but never kept his hand off of the hilt of his sword. He removed his cloak as well, and added it to the pillow for extra comfort. After they had all gotten comfortable they began to talk. By then they had a fire going, and Bran was beginning to let himself relax, a bit. They only talked for a little while though, as they were all weary of the day's travels. All of them eventually began to fall asleep. And as Bran was about to rest, he stared into the tess at the bottom of the hill, one last time, then closed his eyes and rested.

* * *

Bran awoke to the sound of Baragon unpacking his knapsack. He sat up immediatly and rubbed his eyes, blinking quickly to drain out the sun's rays. Baragon looked over at him and smiled:

"How are we feeling this morning?" he asked with a slight hint of sarcasm.

Bran stood up and replied, "Well enough." He looked around and saw Thor, sharpening his blade on a rough stone, but Amdir and Harol were nowhere to be found. In the center of the small hill was a tiny area in which a pot was boiling over, with eggs on top of it.

As if reading his mind, Baragon said, "Amdir and Harol went to look for a path through the mountains early this morning. They should be back around noon." He pointed over to the pot. "The rest is yours. Me and Thor already ate." he finished.

Bran gladly accepted the food, knelled down and began to eat the eggs with a nearby fork. After he was finished he got up and walked down to the bottom of the hill nearest to the narrow river, where Baragon now stood. He stood right beside him and asked., "Do you think they'll find a way through?"

Baragon shrugged and replied, "One never knows, but I doubt it. The only path that I know of would bring us to closer to Angmar. And that is the last thing that any of us want."

Bran knew to well of the dangers of Angmar. He had fought at it's borders for three years before he was set to go back home. Orcs had flooded out like raging water, behind a dam that had just been broken. They had reduced his regiment's number from about 200 to 50. They were foul beasts with wills as ugly as their faces. The came with sharp blades, curved into monstrous shapes. With spears, with bows any weapon you could imagine.

"Is there any way around westwards?" he asked.

Baragon shook his head. "No that would just delay us even longer. We have to find a way straight through, other than the river." He walked up back to the campsite and began equipping the rest of his gear. Thor had now finished sharpening his blade and was doing the same as Baragon. Just as Bran was going to join them, his keen eyes noticed something in the distance. At first they were just two, blurry figures. But as they came closer he recognized them as Harol and Amdir, coming out of the mountains. But something wasn't right. They seemed as if they were running for dear life.

"Look it's Amdir and Harol." he cried to his companions. Thor and Baragon came down from the hill and looked out to their friends.

After a moment of assessing what they were looking at, Thor said, "They run as if the Dark Lord was behind them." It turned out that he wasn't very far off. Seconds later, behind them, cam running at least 20 dark figures. Within a second all three of them realized that they were being chased by Orcs. Baragon was the first to react, shouting orders at the other two.

"Bran get you bow! Thor, stand in front of us with your shield!." Bran immediatly shot up the hill and threw on his quiver and bow. He raced down to see that Baragon was already aiming his bow at the oncoming Orcs. In the nearing distance, Bran could see Harol fire bows behind him, as he ran.

He raced up to Baragon and took aim, just over Amdir and Harol's head. "Fire twice after I do, with careful aim." he said steadily. Bran nodded and stood a bit closer to Thor and his shield. After a few seconds Baragon let his arrow fly. _Swoosh_

It hit an Orc, as he fell to the ground, an arrow in his neck. Bran followed suit. _Swoosh. _The two continued this until Amdir and Harol were coming withing 20 yards. Instantly Bran placed his bow in his quiver, and drew his sword. Baragon did the same, and with a cry, Thor plunged into battle with a crazed look in his eye. They all ran past Amdir and Harol, who had just dodged past them, out of danger; and met the Orcs.

Bran's blade clashed with and Orc's, as he knocked the beast's to the ground. He then quickly impaled the creature and moved onto his next opponent., a monstrous animal who must have been at least 7 feet tall. Their blades met in mid air. They both pushed their full body weight against the other, trying to get the edge. Bran sidestepped and let his foe stumble forward, clumsily. When he turned, Bran swung his sharp blade, and decapitated his foe's head off. He watched, briefly, as the cloven head fell to the ground.

By this time, Amdir and Harol had joined the fight. While Amdir was engaging the attacking orcs, Harol stood back, firing perfectly aimed arrows into the mess of Orcs. They all continued to fight off the Orcs for a while longer until they were all defeated. Bran himself had remained unscathed, but others were not so lucky. Amdir had received a long cut down his leg, and Baragon had been stabbed with a knife. But neither showed any signs of real pain.

"We need to move, now. There will be more coming soon. Gather your gear quickly." Amdir ordered. Within minutes they had all of their equipment and were on the move. Amdir was at a near run, moving quickly into the mountains. They all went, single file into a narrow path, closed between a rocky slope. They ran until they came to a ledge that was overlooking the river that flowed through the hills. There they had a clear overview of their previous campsite. Within minutes a large platoon of Orcs came running, full speed, towards the hill, where the smoke of the fire was shooting up into the sky.

They swarmed over it, analyzing every inch of the small hill. They yelled amongst themselves in their own foul tongue, then quickly ran down the narrow river. They all let out a sigh of relief and moved out of sight, but still alert.

"What happened?" Thor cried. "Why were they chasing you?"

As Amdir was nursing his wounded leg, Harol swiped his brow then began to speak. "We found this path first and followed it until we were sure it would lead somewhere. Then we turned back and looked for another path, just in case this didn't work out. When we found another on the opposite end of this hill, we followed it and found a huge mesh of Orcs. I think you can guess what happened after that."

Thor nodded and walked over to Amdir, who had stopped the bleeding from his wound on his leg. He examined it, then asked, "How bad is the pain?"

Amdir shrugged and said, "Not too bad, I can still run on it. But maybe not as quickly."

Baragon's wound wasn't nearly as bad, as he had been stabbed in the shoulder. "We have to move now, before the Orcs pick up our scent."

They all agreed, and as soon as Amdir was ready to move; they began to move through the narrow path. They walked for hours longer, until it was beginning to grow dark. Eventually they found a wider area that was deep in the mountains. It was a circle with ground of stone, small enough for them to not to be seen but large enough to fit all of them. They began to unpack all of their gear, except for their weapons, which were all kept at their disposal.

They all ate some bread or any other food which they had brought along until it was dark. They dare not light a fire, in fear of alerting the Orcs, so they all just kept close to another that night, with a gaurd always awake. With Baragon volunteering to be the gaurd first, Bran and the others tried to fall asleep. But Bran suspected that none of them would be getting any real sleep that night, including himself. After an hour of lying awake, he looked around him and saw that all of the others, save Baragon, were asleep. Convinced he would not get any sleep that night, he got up and exchanged shifts with Baragon, who was grateful for the sleep.

He picked a nearby rock to sit upon and watched, silently. An hour passed and he still sat. He got up and walked around the small area, searching for anything in the dark. The only light that was provided was from the moon, and even then it was barely enough for him to know where he was walking. Suddenly there was a sound. Quick and soft, but a sound nonetheless. He whirled around him and unsheathed his sword, and pointed it in front of him. There was nothing.

But even then there seemed to be something. He could here no breathing or signs of movement, but above the slope there seemed to be a darker shade of black moving in the shadows. Just as he was beggining to examine it, he heard a voice.

"I'll take gaurd now."

It came from behind him. He whirled around, sword out in front of him. His blade almost had reached the chest of Harol, whose eyes were full of fear. Bran quickly withdrew the blade and sheathed it again.

"What's wrong?" Harol barely gulped out, still in shock.

Bran shook his head and said, "Nothing. I was just a bit scared when I heard your voice. He quickly layed down again, with his hand on his sword. Harol got up and sat on the same rock, watching, just as Bran did.

Reluctantly, Bran let himself fall asleep, trying to forget the day's events.


End file.
